


Power Hungry / Fragile

by foolhearty



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftercare, Aftercare is Important for Both Subs and Doms, BDSM, Blindfolds, Chastity Device, Dom Feelings, Dom/sub, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Flogging, Introspection, M/M, Multi, Nonverbal Commands and Cues, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rewards and Punishment, Ruined Orgasms, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensory Deprivation, Spanking, Teasing, dom Noctis, dom/sub lifestyle, no beta we die like men, sub training
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:53:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13943007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolhearty/pseuds/foolhearty
Summary: There’d been more than one panic-filled night spent pacing a line across his bedroom, fearing how they’d react to the admission; fearing they’d find it demented and wrong, too wrong to overlook. He wanted to dominate them, but gods if he didn’t want their trust and companionship even more. He’d avoided letting them in on his fantasies for months, too scared he’d drive them away to think about going after his own desires.In the end, it had been an overly nervous Prompto who’d broken down all his walls with a quiet, apprehensive: “So. Noct... I kind of have this thing I want to try out.”





	Power Hungry / Fragile

**Author's Note:**

> So. This fic was supposed to be a lot of things: a oneshot and an OT4 fic, for example. It's now Not a oneshot, and it's also Not an OT4 fic. About halfway through, I realized I wasn't doing Gladio any justice in how I was writing him and decided to make this and OT3 fic. It also got away from me idea-wise, so I'll be adding at least one more chapter; the tags for aftercare, etc will become relevant at that point!
> 
> I wanted to write this as an exercise in writing the thoughts a Dom goes through during and after a scene. A lot of fics focus on the sub, which is fun! But Doms deserve some attention and care too, no?

They’re always so patient for him, when he lines them up and tells them in no excess of words to _be still and wait_ before proceeding to deprive them of everything. They make for a beautiful sight. A perfect line, the both of them standing next to one another, arms cross at their wrists behind their back just the way he’d taught them early on. It had taken a long while to train the nervous jitters out of Prompto, weeks upon weeks of encouraging him into an easy state of mind where he could trust what Noct has in store for him without question. Watching his transformation had been a delight.

Next to him, Ignis stand with _practiced_ obedience, his only movements being the subtle shifting of his shoulders that accompanies his even breathing. Noct’s eyes scan over the both of them greedily, and his attention is only ripped away from them for a curious glance at the clock. He’s had them there, _still and waiting,_ for the last thirty-five minutes. He paces an easy circle around them, boots thumping casually along the floor–not that the noise is going to bother his boys all too much. 

Their perfect posture aside, there’s other things that make the sights in front of him so mouthwatering. Their matching collars, black as the void above and stylized with gold embellishments; pretty o-rings and locks that _shine_ wonderfully when the light hits them just right. They’re nude, save for a few required elements, but they cover only what Noct wants covered. Their eyes are beautiful, but they’ve no need for them with what Noct has in store tonight; they’re hidden behind thick blindfolds, cutting them off from all sights and lights in the room. Likewise, he’s covered their ears with the best noise-canceling headphones money can buy.

The control over them this way satiates something power hungry and loud deep inside of him. His calm, tired exterior isn’t a facade necessarily, but it does lay overtop something needier that was, at the very beginning, admittedly a little scary for Noct to look at within himself. There’s a fragility that comes along with admitting to two of your closest friends on the planet that you want to tie them to a bed and ravage them for hours on end, that you want to train them to please you and forego their own pleasure until you decide they’ve earned it.

There’d been more than one panic-filled night spent pacing a line across his bedroom, fearing how they’d react to the admission; fearing they’d find it demented and wrong, too wrong to overlook. He wanted to dominate them, but gods if he didn’t want their trust and companionship even more. He’d avoided letting them in on his fantasies for months, too scared he’d drive them away to think about going after his own desires.

In the end, it had been an overly nervous Prompto who’d broken down all his walls with a quiet, apprehensive: _“So. Noct... I kind of have this_ **_thing_ ** _I want to try out.”_  

That had been the first time Noct put either of them in chastity. And it opened the door for an ever-evolving list of kinks the four of them were able to happily share together. Tonight isn’t anything totally new and off the wall, per se, but that doesn’t detract from the perfection of it. Noctis is at ease with the scenario he’s laid out for the both of them tonight, eager to watch them unfold for him one by one. It’s an exercise in patience, not merely for them but for _himself_. He wants desperately to snatch one of them out of line and bring them to their knees.  

Ignis. He wants _Ignis_ on his knees, a blush rising up from his chest to his cheeks; wants him gasping and moaning and entirely left to Noct’s will. He wants to make Ignis crawl, lead him around with a hand in his hair and make him torture Prompto with that perfect tongue of his before he’s allowed any real _torturing_ of his own. 

But starting the events of the night so early would bring them also to an early end, and Noct’s silencing his eagerness with the delayed gratification of waiting to see which of them starts crumbling first after he begins to tease them with feather-light touches along their shoulder blades and spines. He doesn’t dare touch anywhere more sensitive, though it’s tempting to palm their caged cocks and chuckle at their attempts to mask their desperation.

But he isn’t feeling cruel, tonight. He caresses them all in turn, running his knuckles down the lengths of their backs until his watchful eyes catch one of them shiver and curl their toes. It’s almost certainly a set of unconscious motions, but it’s makes his decision on who he plays with last tonight all the easier. He smiles, pressing a kiss to Prompto’s cheek as an apology before striding a circle around the group and tugging Ignis unceremoniously out of line by the ring of his collar. 

“My strong, patient man,” he praises on deaf ears, “You always make me so proud.” 

Ignis had been easily the quicker to train, despite his initial wave of questions and concerns about the lifestyle. Or, perhaps, _because_ of them. He’d taken the time to acclimate himself to the idea of being wholly submissive, had warmed up to the role mentally before giving into it physically and emotionally. It wasn’t with reckless abandon that he threw himself to Noct’s feet and gave himself, but with an immense level of trust and faith. When Noctis tells Ignis to stand still, he’s still. When he tells him to fall to the floor, he falls to the floor. Say jump, he jumps. And since working up to long-term chastity, after careful months of working up from hours to days to weeks in confinement, he’s never once had the audacity to ask to be let out, except for regular cleanings and adjustments to get rid of any pinching or discomfort.   

Noct is high on the ownership he has over Ignis. He marks the days they’ve each been confined since their last orgasm on an inconspicuous calendar hanging by the fridge in his kitchen. Ignis, a master of delayed gratification in all aspects of his life, has be so far happy to forego his release for six months. Noct has offered him temporary freedom more than once, has tried plying him promises of true orgasms, rather than the ruins he almost exclusively gives to Prompto, but Ignis’ response to the same every time: 

_“I will defer to your desires, Noct. I trust you know I say this freely?”_

It warms Noct’s heart in a way D/s talk doesn’t have the _right_ to, but to hell with putting on airs really. Ignis makes him so _happy_ . Ignis doesn’t just give himself away, but he does it with a level of willingness that makes Noct feel a _sappy_ sense of adoration and love underneath his baser feelings of growling ownership and possessiveness. He’s greedy enough and trusts Ignis’ self-restraint enough now that he plans not to offer him another chance for release until he’s hit the point of being locked for another two months. But those are far off plans for the future, distant pleasant dreams to fantasize about as he trudges through council reports his father wants him to read. 

Tonight, he has more immediate plans.

He leads Ignis across the room, away from his two companions, forcing him to his hands and knees mid stride but allowing him enough seconds to orient himself and recover before making him follow along once more, brown hair threaded between Noct’s fingers. Their destination is a normal armchair, which Noct positions Ignis in front of on the floor before collapsing inelegantly onto the chair itself. After pacing around the room for the better part of an hour, watching and inspecting his subs, he allows himself a moment of simple relief in being off his feet before putting those very feet back to work, nudging Ignis’ chin up with the toe of his boot. 

Prepared on a side table within arms reach, he has an assortment of toys to play with. As well as he likes to plan his evenings, he also likes to give himself choices; after a moment or two of indecision, he lowers his boot, turns to retrieve something from the table, and proceeds to connect Ignis’ headphones to a small music player. The player only has a single playlist of songs, all of them meant to take whoever’s listening at the time out of the present and send them drifting idly. It’s ambient music, soft sounds that, as far as Noct has been able to see, take his subs to a pleasant headspace when implemented properly. 

He starts the music at an extremely low volume, not wanting to harm Ignis’ ears, and watches Ignis take on a surprised expression, catch his breath, then relax his shoulders. He’s so _good_. It isn’t until he feels confident that Ignis is expecting the music to increase just slightly in volume that he actually makes it happen. They’ve done this time and time before; Noct has learned Ignis’ tells and feels confident in setting the playlist off on shuffle for a while without much of a care. He leans forward, tapping Ignis’ hand twice and then cups his balls once before tapping them twice as well. It’s all the direction Ignis needs; as Noct has insisted, his subs don’t need their ears for this.

Ears are convenient when they choose not to dabble in sensory deprivation, but non-vocal cues and directions get his points across _just_ as easily.

Ignis takes to the command with ease, cupping his balls and fondling them. Noctis _knows_ that _Ignis_ knows this will get him worked up, but Noctis _also_ knows that this isn’t nearly enough to work Ignis up to the edge. If Noctis wanted Ignis feeling outright _tortured_ , as per his original fantasy, he would have strapped him to the bed and stuffed him with a vibrator. No, Noct wants Ignis’ arousal to come slow, in waves, heating him up him from the core out as the music flooding his senses takes him on a long drift in his mind.

He doesn’t need to treat Ignis to the extremes to make him fall apart in front of him. The extremes are intense and worthwhile, but there’s no discrediting slow, arduous buildup. It sounds easier to handle than being flogged or being made to suffer through ruins and quick overstimulation, but the truth can’t be further from that. His gaze flickers towards Prompto, still standing in place. Him, for example. Noct is so careful with his boys, know which types of vulnerability suit them _personally_ and which are simply too much. Prompto can handle many, many things that Noct enjoys dishing out, but he has never particularly taken to _slowness_.

It isn’t a matter of training him into it. It’s a matter of having recognized the discomfort it put Prompto through when they tried it, and not wanting to ever see him so hurt ever again. They work up to things and discuss them well enough that calling their safeword is a rarity saved for bad days or when they try new things, but the way Prompto had sobbed on the word when Noct had left him with this playlist and too much space to drift from negative thought to negative thought was something Noct never wanted to happen again. He cares so much about them, _both_ of them.

Their kinks aren’t just for his enjoyment. Ignis and Prompto aren’t his whipping boys to use up and ignore when he doesn’t want them. They’re his _treasures_ , and their submission to him is always a mutually desired thing: they have to be as happy giving into a scene as Noctis is taking control of it, or the scene doesn’t _happen_ . It goes for all aspects of their life; they’ve slowly worked into the subtlest _hints_ at 24/7 play, but Noct is always so careful, so conscious of making sure they maintain their say in matters that concern them. Stripping them of the totality of their personhood is not and will never be a goal in Noctis’ mind; no, rather than that: he _wants_ them to be fully human and cognizant when they choose to submit to him. That is the most worthwhile thing he could ever ask of them.

–So, this more arduous style of play is saved for Ignis, who doesn’t get frustrated with too-slow buildup or anxious with too-little feedback.

With buildup and delay sitting heavy on Noct’s mind, it’s no wonder his attention drifts from Ignis after a short while of watching him palm himself in time with the slow beats of the music. It lands on Prompto, a success story for the ages. For all his gentle nerves, Prompto has the constitution and desire to take more hits than Ignis likely ever will – and has the eagerness to ask for them, more oft than not. Finding ways to punish Prom other than corporal punishment is an ever-changing task. He’s excitable and while he obeys without question when Noct’s commands are _clear_ , Prompto likes to toe the lines of his freedoms when given the chance to roam.

He’s not an outright _brat_ , but there are days where Noct thinks he could be if he had half the confidence in himself that he and Ignis wish he had. Prom’s disobedience comes from two parts forgetfulness and only one part intentional misbehavior. It’s easy enough to explain: he and Prom have always enjoyed messing around with one another, joking and having fun. Noct doesn’t blame him for wanting some of that easiness to translate into their play, and he doesn’t begrudge him the right to have it either. Having excuses to slap his hand across Prompto’s bare ass is more than enough reason to indulge Prompto’s preferences, even if the “punishment” pretense is a total sham. Getting spanked to the point of tears isn’t punishment to Prompto, it’s like getting living in a candy store. He eats it up during the act and giddily enjoys the gentle care that comes after, too.

What can Noct say? Prompto’s _cute_. He lets Prom get away with things he’d scold Ignis for simply by virtue of him being damn adorable when he gets caught, so long as he remembers to get himself into shape when Noct decides it’s a night to be serious and listen.

With an amused grin, Noct circles around Prompto twice before swooping in and peppering kisses along his cheeks. Watching the way Prompto tries to resist showing his wild, wide smile fills Noct with a warm feeling; part of him laments what he’s about to do, because he does so enjoy spoiling this dork of a boy. But the easiest way to get Prompto to be his outright cutest is to break him down first, and Noct has no qualms in doing it.

After a few moments of easy treatment, Noct leads Prompto by the hand towards the wall and positions him how he wants him. It leaves Prompto with his legs together, but his hands slightly spread on the wall just above his head. As a show of his intent, he gives Prompto’s rump a good squeeze before stepping away and admiring the body in front of him.

Prompto is every bit as conventionally attractive that he doesn’t _think_ he is, which is a damn shame in Noct’s opinion. He looks downright heaven-sent, with a smile that lights up every room he enters and freckles for days. They trail from his cheeks down low, crossing the curve of his neck to litter themselves over his shoulders and straight down his back. They smatter across his backside and down his legs. From the top of his head to the tip of his toes, he’s perfect and breathtaking. His every blush covers him completely, like his excitement and embarrassment are full-body experiences that the gods had deemed necessary to show in their entirety.

The line of his jaw is smooth and sweet, perfect to nose along and treat to endless sweet kisses at the end of a long, difficult day. He’s soft all around: soft skin, soft hair, soft looks in his eyes when he wakes up in the morning and laughs and promises to be back from his runs within the hour. Noct has been smitten from the start, and being able to call Prompto _his_ is a blessing in and of itself. The spankings and floggings are just cherries on top of an already perfect relationship: not necessary in the slightest, but savored when given as an extra treat.  

From the side table he’d taken the music player from earlier, he retrieves one such extra treat; it’s a flogger, one of the more bare-bones amongst their assortment. There’s no fancy colorings to the handle or tails, no decorative handle inlays of faux-gold or silver that might call for adjustments in swing or pressure. It’s entirely for its function tonight, rather than the visual aesthetic that might otherwise work to thrill Prompto into an excessively willing submission. The _look_ of things always plays a part in Prompto’s enjoyment. Noctis thinks it’s his photographer’s eye, or perhaps simply an appreciation for scenes looking _right_. Either way, it’s an aspect they’ll play in more later on; tonight, the focus settles elsewhere as Noct gives the flogger a few swings through the air to reacquaint himself with the weight and feel of it. Causing genuine harm is never the goal, only the illusion of it; were he to miss the fleshy skin of Prompto’s rump and hit somewhere less forgiving and pliable with too harsh of a blow, Noctis would hardly be able to forgive himself.

Prompto is perfect and beautiful. Scarring him beyond repair would be more than Noct’s poor heart could handle, and more of a crime than he’d consider forgivable.

Once comfortable again with his grip and swing, he strides back towards his beautiful boy and dangles the tails of the flogger over the curve of his backside. It garners an instant reaction, despite what Noct is sure must be Prompto’s earnest desire to be still and good. It’s so difficult to deny this angel anything, really; Noct clicks his tongue and files the excited twitch away as something they’ll have to work on more later, but decides against punishing Prompto for it tonight. Prompto is smart; he likely already _knows_ he’s done something wrong, and him _knowing_ is half the battle. That’s the important part, the awareness. They can _fix_ _it_ later, when they’re both less pointedly excited for the current scene.

He takes a careful step back, wanting to be far enough away that he doesn’t hit Prompto with the full force of the entire length of the flogger’s tails or the blunt of the handle, then starts things off with the subtlest flick upwards, just grazing the underside of Prompto’s ass with the tips of the leather tails. Noct nearly wishes Prompto could hear himself for this; even a touch as simple as that has Prompto emitting the hints of a whimper. 

Prompto is louder when he can’t hear himself; he’s far more willingly vocal. It has something to do with the embarrassment he feels when he can hear himself enjoying things more than he thinks he’s allowed to. When he can’t hear, he can’t judge as easily how to adjust his volume. It’s a treat for Noctis to hear, and one of the many reasons he purchased such high quality headphones.

He treats Prompto to a handful of slow warm-up swings from below, before shifting his stance just slightly and raking the tails in a downward swing across the left side of Prompto’s ass. Prompto downright yelps, arching inward towards the wall. Noct waits until he’s caught his breath and gotten back into stance before continuing, mixing those harsh strokes in with more teasing, light ones. To finish off, he stop for nearly a full minute, letting Prompto stew in the lingering sting of his previous hits before crossing multiple harder hits across his rump in quick succession, because he knows Prompto can take it. He could take far more than what he’s being given now, even, but not on a night like tonight where he isn’t adequately bound and kept still.

One wrong twitch or jolt from either of them could do some serious damage, and he’d rather save the rougher stuff for a longer night, one far more dedicated to dragging Prompto _specifically_ through the ringer. The rougher stuff is saved for their nights alone together, when his attention isn’t being divided between both of his subs at once.  

As he sets the flogger aside, he watches Prompto heave desperate breaths and shake in place. His backside is warm to the touch when Noct trails a soothing hand over it. Prompto is bound to be sore tomorrow, but he prefers the soreness over being given potions directly after the fact. He’s asked Prompto about it before, and his answers are always so innocently given despite the subject matter. 

_“Awe, Noct. I just like remembering what you do to me is all. That wrong of me?”_

Of course it isn’t _wrong_. It makes Noctis salivate, if anything. Prompto thriving on the physical reminder of being broken down to tears by Noct’s hand makes Noct feel proud and protective. It gives him excuses to have Prompto walk around the house all day with little more on than a t-shirt, to both show off the bruising more readily but also to spare Prompto the annoyance of squeezing his pained little butt into a pair of too-tight skinny jeans.

He squeezes at Prompto’s skin, before trailing his hands up his back and to the headphones still covering his ears. He removes them slowly, letting Prompto take in the sound of his own breathing before saying anything at all.

“You did good, sweetheart.” He assures, and delights in the way Prompto smiles over his shoulder at him. His cheeks are lined with hot tears, but his smile is that of pure bliss. Noct kisses at the wet lines before taking Prompto’s hand and once again leading him somewhere new. This time, to the bed, where he settles Prompto under a sheet before removing his blindfold as well. “Take some time to breathe for me, okay? You did so good. Just relax and watch me bring Iggy down.”

Prompto’s response is a hum and a stolen kiss to Noct’s cheek and a soft-spoken, hoarse sounding “thanks, Noct.” And really, that’s just one of the little things that Noct lives for.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to find me on my [writing tumblr](https://foolhearty.tumblr.com/). It's low activity at the moment (just like this AO3 has been for the last few months) but I sometimes post previews and I'd love love love to talk to anyone!


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